I have a lot to do. I can’t find any music that pleases me. So tonight you get a little promo video, telling you about Avaldsnes in Norway. This is where my great-grandfather was born, and it’s one of the places I’m going this summer (God willing) to play Viking — likely with some of the people shown in the video.
Have a good weekend.
And the translation work keeps coming in. If I were tired of it, I would not tell you. Because I have an international trip this summer to support. Plus inflation to cover. Also, it’s nice to be needed, when you’re me.
It’s cold, cold, and I have to go somewhere tonight. But tomorrow’s supposed to be warmer, and Sunday warmer still. Maybe this will be the turning point – just as Daylight Savings Time falls, clattering like a muffler off an old car. Maybe spring is coming. Or milder weather, with some consistency, at least.
The song above is an old Faeroese ring dance song, translated into Norwegian. I heard it first from a Norwegian folk group, but their version doesn’t seem to be on YouTube. However, this one isn’t bad, and they illustrated it with footage swiped from the 1958 film, “The Vikings,” starring Kirk Douglas. For its time, that movie made commendable gestures in the direction of trying to be kind of authentic. In some ways. Sort of.
It’s still better than the History Channel series, now metastasized to Netflix, they tell me.
The song is about King Olaf Trygvesson (whom you may remember from The Year of the Warrior), and how he built and launched his great ship, Ormen Lange (the Long Serpent). The chorus goes:
The dance is loud in the hall, when we dance in the ring! Gladly ride the men of Norway to the Thing of Hildar (a kenning for battle).
The full text is here.
More video tonight. This is an amateur video, but pretty well done, of the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo. I’ve been there, of course, but I’ll probably never see it again. They closed it down recently for a five-year expansion. While they’re at it, they’re also working on stabilizing the old ships (I personally blame their deterioration on a guy I know, whose name I won’t divulge, who once put his hands on the Gokstad ship while the guards weren’t looking). By the time the renovation project is done, I’ll probably be too old to travel over there.
The one with the curly prow and stern is the Oseberg Ship, the oldest of the two. It seems to have been sort of a royal yacht, and two women were found buried in it. One assumes they’re a mistress and her slave, but they still haven’t worked out who’s who.
The one with the plain prow and stern is the Gokstad, which is larger and a genuine fighting ship. A tall man, wounded in the leg, was found buried in it. Among his grave goods was a peacock. That always amused me. A questionable tradition says its occupant was Olaf Gierstad-Elf, an ancestor of Saint Olaf, who plays a small role, as a ghost, in my novel-in-progress.
I am doing my best to keep my Christmas spirit up. Watched a couple of Christmas videos yesterday, including A Christmas Carol (Alistair Sim) because I needed it. This big translating project I’m doing (for which I thank God, by the way) is, shall we say, about the farthest thing from Christmasy you can imagine. And I’ll say no more about that.
Above is something that feels like a Christmas gift to me. A trailer for an upcoming film called “The Northman” that looks like it might possibly not stink.
It looks like they made some effort to be authentic with costumes and props (there’s a horned helmet there, but it looks ceremonial, which is correct). It’s supposed to be a story about a prince named Amleth, who wants revenge for his father’s death. That suggests inspiration from Shakespeare’s Hamlet (see my novel Blood and Judgment. I wonder if I can sue them for plagiarism. Probably not).
I’m confused about setting. News reports talk about Iceland, but there are no forests in Iceland, and it’s never had a king. But I expect the story moves around some.
Looks like an R rating, and this article suggests elements of witchcraft, so be warned.
But I expect I’ll go to see it.
File this under “News That Surprised Absolutely Nobody:”
Counting tree rings reveals that wooden objects previously found at an archaeological site on Newfoundland’s northern peninsula were made from trees felled in the year 1021. That’s the oldest precise date for Europeans in the Americas and the only one from before Christopher Columbus’ voyages in 1492, geoscientists Margot Kuitems and Michael Dee and colleagues report October 20 in Nature.
You can read the rest here at Sciencenews.org.
1021 is actually fairly late in the game, if you give the sagas any credence. But most of us believe the Greenlanders were here for quite a few years. The sagas describe three expeditions in detail, and it seems probable that the Greenlanders would have exploited American resources (especially lumber) for quite a long time, even after they gave up on the idea of a colony.
I hold to the widely-held theory that the L’Anse Aux Meadows site in Newfoundland is not the entire Norse American enterprise, but merely a station – possibly a pretty insignificant one. The only real activity we can identify there from the archaeology is boat repair and its ancillary crafts.
Our good friend Dave Lull sent me this article from The American Conservative: A Norwegian American Journey, by Sam Sweeney.
Growing up in rural Montana, I was a bit removed from the Norwegian enclave in western North Dakota that my mom’s family is from. We ate lefse at Thanksgiving, but other than that, compared to my cousins I was not particularly in touch with my Norwegian heritage. I never felt a particular connection to Norway as a country, but do mention my heritage to Norwegians I meet, as there are a surprisingly high number of them in the Middle East, where I’ve spent much of the last decade. Reading Giants in the Earth, however, was an enlightening experience, and it brought to life the journey that my ancestors took from Norway to the Dakotas.
After reading O. E. Rolvaag’s Giants in the Earth and Peder Victorious, the writer goes on to ponder Scandinavian cinema (I myself have seen The Last King and The King’s Choice, but none of the other films he describes). The article is interesting, though I was wondering by the end what its point was.
I personally am not a fan of much Scandinavian literature or film, as I expect I’ve made pretty clear. I read Giants In the Earth in college, and my major take-away was what a depressing book it was. I never read the sequel, Peder Victorious, but a friend described it to me, and the description didn’t appeal much (here’s a hint – the name “Victorious” [Norwegian Seier] is darkly ironic). The same friend described other books by Rolvaag, like The Boat of Longing, and that sounded even worse. I do not recommend reading Rolvaag if you struggle with suicidal ideation.
Scandinavians have a bent for looking at things coldly and in a brutal, unsentimental light. When the Scandinavians were Christian, I think, they found ways to mitigate that brutal honesty. Now that they’ve mostly “transcended” Christian faith, they seem to have settled on a glum fatalism, like those dogs in the famous Learned Helplessness experiments.
I think that probably explains most of their current social policies.
The local PBS station in Brainerd, Minnesota did a report on our festival last weekend. My red Viking banner is prominently featured, and I can also be seen from a distance, at my book table beside my tent, under my awning.
It really was pretty cool.
Since I’m sure you were praying fervently for my safety this weekend, considering my age and deteriorating mental state, you’ll rejoice to know that I and my loaner car both returned intact from an intensive experience.
First, at noon Friday, a lunch meeting with the board of the Georg Sverdrup Society at a restaurant in Fergus Falls, Minnesota. That went fine, except that I have lots of work to do now on delayed projects (delayed, surprisingly, by other causes than my personal laziness).
Then on eastward to the Brainerd area, where I met my hosts for the weekend. They were an extremely gracious retired couple who fed me sumptuously and listened to my tales and anecdotes. I, for my part, actually asked some questions of them, which is not my usual way. I must have been transitioning into Public Lars mode, which is more outgoing than my true personality.
In the morning my host guided me to the Crow Wing County Fairgrounds, where some of my group were already waiting. We set up, and other Vikings from other groups showed up and set up as well. In the end the Crow Wing Viking Festival looked like the photo above.
Things were slow starting off. I suspect the weather had a lot to do with it. It had been stormy overnight (everyone was grateful for the rain after a dry summer), and some clouds and sprinkling moved through before everything lightened up. It became a beautiful day – about 70 degrees – the only problem being strong wind gusts that bludgeoned us now and then (at one point one actually knocked the post out from one corner of my sun shade awning).
And the crowds came, as we hoped, as eager as the Vikings to finally get out and do something with people under God’s sun. The fighting contingent had enough participants to form reasonable shield walls in the battle shows, and – judging by my business – people were eager and willing to spend their rapidly devaluing dollars. I took home a nice amount that had previously been in other people’s pockets.
Then, because I had a young guy carrying my impedimenta in his big vehicle, we convoyed home, stopping for burgers in St. Cloud. I was the old man in the party, and did my best to appear clueless and opinionated. Pulled in at home a little after 10:00 p.m., and unloaded. Dragged my stuff inside, and collapsed to a better night’s sleep than I’d had in a while.
Oh yes, somebody asked for a picture of my Viking chest. I forgot to take one at the festival, but here it is in its customary spot, subbing for a desk chair in my home office.
Above is a locally produced video from Brainerd, Minnesota, promoting the Crow Wing Viking Festival this Saturday. I’ll be there, God willing, selling books (God also willing). I neither endorse nor critique this video. I just found it, and haven’t had time to review it. Still have to pack tonight.
Finished my intense translating job. Tomorrow, a meeting to attend, then on to Brainerd. They had a fun festival two years ago. Last year nothing happened, it goes without saying. This weekend, with typical Viking courage, we’re getting the (rover) band back together.
Information here. Nothing from me in this space tomorrow.
As usual, my house will not be empty while I’m gone. My renter will be here. He may or may not be on his meds.
The Danish Road Safety Council has come up with a very clever commercial to promote the use of bike helmets. I’m not sure I agree with the safety uber alles fetish of the helmet purists, but the commercial is fun. And, as somebody said, probably the most interesting Viking film made since the 1960s.
Also, it pokes subtle fun at the History Channel series, it seems to me.
As for me, I am up to my aventail in translation work right now. For a while I thought I’d promised to deliver it sooner than I ought to, but now I think it will be OK.
[Imagine a picture of Saturday’s events here. I neglected to take one. My brain was overheated, I think.]
It is one of the anomalies (I think that’s the word for it) of historical reenactment, that many of us impersonate people from the history of northern Europe, where it’s cool most of the year and most people historically wore wool. But we do it at events in America in the summer, where big wool costumes with cloaks are borderline dangerous if you don’t keep carefully hydrated. (And those who don’t reenact European stuff generally do the Revolutionary or Civil Wars, where wool is also de rigeur.)
Minnesota Military History Days, an annual event held in Dundas Minnesota (where my grandfather was once town constable for a year, as I kept telling people), was originally scheduled for May. But the weather was cold and wet in May, so they rescheduled for the first weekend in June. June is usually real nice in Minnesota.
This year the temperature hovered up just below 100˚. If I can trust my car’s thermometer, it actually hit 100 in the Cities. (Another thing I often tell people, whether they like it or not, is that I spent 11 years on the east coast of Florida, and never saw 100˚, but I’ve been through many such days in the North Star State.) I figured that after the long lockdown, people would want to come out to a public event in spite of the heat – but that was not the case. Attendance was sparse, much below normal levels, according to the old hands.
This was the first year anybody from The Viking Age Club & Society of the Sons of Norway had been to the event. (It was a three-day event, but we only did Saturday.) It’s what’s called a timeline event, where reenactors from various periods all come together to provide a walking (and camping) history lesson. There was a big World War II battle in the afternoon (America won again, I’m proud to report), but our Vikings did a couple combat shows too (I left that to others). And we had a good turnout of members, all of them young people – except, of course, for me.
I brought my tent and awning shade (we did need the shade), and it was good to have a lot of youthful free labor to do the bulk of the putting up and tearing down. Even so, I had occasion to ponder the fact that it had been more than a year since I’d done this stuff, and in the interim I’ve arguably become too old for it. Especially on really hot days.
I comfort myself with the thought that it will be better if I lose some weight. (Though that’s less comfortable when I remember that losing weight requires effort and self-control.) I got a fair amount of exercise in, though, walking back and forth to the water tap.
It was a fun event in spite of the sparse crowds. We (by which I mean mainly the other Vikings) made a lot of contacts. Invitations to other events and possible new group members came up. It was a good time.
In which I didn’t sell a single book, because we weren’t allowed to display any modern stuff.
However, another event was coming Sunday. Danish Day at the Danish-American Center in Minneapolis. Granted, I almost never sell any books at that event, but at least I’d be able to display them, and who knows?
As an added attraction, the temperature would be about the same as Saturday.
However, I was denied the joys of another tropical set-up and tear-down, when I went into my garage to start my car on Sunday morning, and the transmission wouldn’t function. Bummer. I unloaded my car and spent the day rehydrating and recovering from Saturday.
This morning I got AAA to tow my car to my regular transmission place (I have a regular transmission place because – as I have learned to my chagrin – PT Cruisers are prone to those kinds of problems.) If it’s the same thing it was the last time, it’ll be easily fixed. But they haven’t gotten back to me yet. Which leads me to worry.
On the high spiritual plane which I inhabit, we call this “opportunities to increase our faith.”